Poems by Blodgett E. D.
All
... This is all that we will leave behind -- a line of words and atthe end a little silence, then another word that someone elsemight speak, and speaking speak the only thing that I have given you,and folded it in words that you have given back, this long duetthat is the you and I that we become, a tree that flowers wherewe used to stand, and after flowers apples that begin to fillthe air in autumn light, a tree that is a dream of apples wherethe light that fills our eyes when we are in each other's gaze is thatrefulgence that becomes an apple through the turning year, a sunthat hangs so lightly on the branch that just the merest breath might carryit away, the breath the words that cast us up in one embrace,words that made of us the sun and apples and autumnal airs --these are all I had for you, the little world where we arebut are another self that is not ours, asleep inside the light. ...
Birth
... g mothers, seeking consolations of the dark -- tearsthat lie in pieces in every room you move within ...
Coyotes
... ir around the stars flowing throughthe sleep we are, so close we are their intimates, breathing fire ...
Dead Reckoning
... re, the sun beyond our measure, being seen,after it is gone, mirage of roses passing through the sky ...
The eyes of toads are great
... The eyes of toads are great wells of sadness: wheredo they gaze but into fate to see nothing there? ...
Herons step with care
... Herons step with care across the shore: they weaveinto the sand their bare calligraphy and leave. ...
History
... we will step carefully about us, mysteriesof where beginnings are, of our being rose, possessing us ...
Métis
... nd I who drift slowly through placesand then through names where hundreds walk to gazeand conjure us ...
Sea
... become the sea, a sea of sacred utterance,and I the hearing of the sea, its answer to the moon in me ...
Snow
... chair -- and so we come to be in temporalitiesof us and of whatever we are of, the snow in syllables ...
Where is the soul to find
... Where is the soul to find its truest orientif not within the mind of cats, when they consent? ...
Windflowers
... for elkeof air they areand nothingmoreonethrough anotherfallsit is a flightof glasswithinno onewould hearhow they turnupon themselvesit isto heara whitewhere that air isyour handwould goto glazesummer ...
